competence
by Kuruk
Summary: In which Eduardo goes to California when Mark asks him to, and things work out for the better. — eduardo/mark. :the social network:


_Notes: Originally written for a prompt on the _TSN_kinkmeme _over on LiveJournal. The prompt was: _"Eduardo goes out to California when Mark asks him to. And like, learns to tolerate Sean and uses his contacts to try and get investors. Just want to see supercompetentcfo!Eduardo who recognises he can't help run a company from the other side of the country. Plus, you know, Mark wants/needs him."_ I hope you enjoy!_

_Characters/Pairings: Eduardo/Mark. Sean, Dustin, Chris._

_Fandom: The Social Network_

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, AU._

_Disclaimer: The characters in this piece are based on the fictional representations as seen in the film _The Social Network_ and not their real-life counterparts. All mistakes are my own._

* * *

><p><em><strong>competence<strong>_

The feeling that this is a bad idea keeps gnawing at him, even as he pushes his checkbook and bankcard into the receptacle.

"Can I help you?"

He's just trying to get his attention. And yeah, the way in which he's doing it is childish and could jeopardize membership or some such bullshit, but – _but…_

"I'd like to freeze this bank account and cancel all existing checks and lines of credit."

Sean Parker is _not_ good for this company. Anyone with eyes could see that, and if Mark could just pull his head out of the guy's ass he would see that, too. _Eduardo_ is Facebook's CFO, not Sean Parker. So what if the guy founded Napster? Couldn't anyone else see that he was a complete and utter sleaze ball? The drugs – the heavy shit, too, nothing like the weed he would smoke with Mark and Dustin and Chris while playing video game marathons and watching _Star Wars_ for the umpteenth time – and the girls, Jesus, the _girls_. How old were they anyway? What if the cops searched the place and found them –

"May I see some ID, please?"

Eduardo is tired. He is tired of riding subways fourteen hours a day trying to find advertisers that would be willing to buy into a 'risky investment' run by kids who aren't even out of college yet. He is tired of having Christy call and text him every ten minutes asking him where he is and accusing him of cheating on her. He is tired of Sean Parker and his penchant for weaseling his way into _their_ business—his and Mark's, and acting as if it were him who sat in that dorm room at Kirkland and stood by Mark since he was pissed off and drunk and blogging _Erica Albright is a bitch_ on his blog before singlehandedly crashing the Harvard servers with FaceMash.

"Yeah, sure," Eduardo says over the lump in his throat, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

He isn't an idiot. He's the president of the Harvard Investor's Association, for god's sake. He made $300,000 in one summer with nothing but a little meteorological knowledge and his own tenacity.

His hands are shaking so hard that he drops his wallet. "Shit," he mumbles under his breath before giving the lady behind the counter what he hopes is an apologetic smile (it comes out as a grimace) and bending over to pick his wallet off the floor, which is so clean he can see his reflection. Grimacing at it, he plucks his wallet off the floor and pulls his driver's license out, but before he can hand it over his eyes fall on that picture he keeps in one of the folds.

It's one of the four of them at a restaurant; Eduardo still remembers that night. It was one of the only times that he and Chris had managed to pry Mark and Dustin away from the computer. Dustin, of course, is posing ridiculously, face contorted in a ridiculous expression with his arm slung over Chris's shoulder, who is trying to keep a straight face (but failing). Eduardo, much more forward with his emotions, is laughing, and beside him, Mark has on that expression that says _I should be back at the dorm coding,_ but his lips are quirked upwards, proof that he had enjoyed himself that night.

And _Jesus_, why does Eduardo feel like such a douchebag right now?

"Sir?" the woman asks with a strained smile, "May I see some identification?"

Eduardo nods choppily, but does not hand her the ID. He is thinking about that night in the hallway when Mark blabbered on and on about Sean and Peter Thiel and angel investments and how if Eduardo didn't move to Palo Alto he was _afraid that he would get left behind. _Mark never did answer what he meant by that, Eduardo realizes, but then again, that wasn't what he emphasized the most in that exchange, was it?

_I want – I want – I _need_ you out here._

Fuck.

He can't do this.

"Sir?" the woman prompts again, but Eduardo is already shaking his head.

"Uh, no, sorry, I can't – I won't be needing to make that transaction after all."

— . . . —

So Eduardo doesn't end up freezing the account like he had planned.

Instead, he goes back to his apartment and takes the longest shower he's ever taken, head turned so that the spray blasts directly into his face, the heat scouring his skin.

Maybe he doesn't know why he couldn't go through with it, but now that he's taken some time to really think about it, he realizes that he was acting stupidly. He feels like an idiot, because Eduardo has been telling Mark that he's his CFO so much that it's basically all he's been telling him, but that stunt he was about to pull at the bank – that was in no way acting in the company's best interests.

This is just – Mark is so difficult to deal with. It's worse than when Eduardo would try to convince him to eat something or get a couple hours of sleep after a two-day coding bender.

"At least back at Kirkland he would actually listen to me, eventually…" he mumbles to himself.

Eduardo doesn't mind taking care of Mark. Really, he doesn't. It's not just because if he doesn't do it no one else will, either. Eduardo… Eduardo _believes _in Mark, believes in their friendship and Mark's brilliance and that, deep down, Mark isn't the asshole everyone thinks he is. And maybe it's because of that day at Kirkland when Mark put his name on the masthead and said _Sure I do_ when Eduardo said he had no idea how much it would mean to his father. But Eduardo believes in Mark, in what they have, both personally and professionally, so that's why the second he steps out of the now freezing shower, he grabs his cell and calls Mark.

It rings about seven or eight times before he actually picks up. "Yeah…?"

There may be a lot of static in the background, but Eduardo can still tell that Mark has just woken up. Eduardo smiles to himself. "Jesus, Mark. It's almost 2:00 over there…"

There is a pause.

"There were some bugs with the Wall that I had to fix," Mark says, though there is a note of surprise in his voice.

Eduardo nods to himself, then remembering that Mark cannot see him, bites his lower lip. "Look, Mark…" he begins.

"Wardo?"

He closes his eyes. "Did you mean what you said?"

"There are a lot of things I've said, Wardo. You'll have to be more specific for me to be able answer your question."

Eduardo bites back a retort, keeps his voice level. "That night in the hallway," he says, "When you said you needed me there. Did you mean it?"

Mark hesitates before answering, and Eduardo remembers how he'd asked him not to tell Sean he'd said that, how basically every remotely emotional thing Mark had ever told him was when the two of them were alone.

"Yes," Mark finally says, voice so quiet that it's almost swallowed by the static.

Eduardo closes his eyes tiredly. "Okay, Mark."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, Mark. Okay. I'll move there."

He can nearly imagine the look of disbelief on Mark's face. "You're actually serious about this," Mark murmurs. It's almost a question.

"I'm your CFO," Eduardo says for the hundredth time, except he thinks that he finally means it this time, "You're right. I should be out there with you."

"I – you… you'll have to work closely with Sean, you know. You may not like him but he knows Silicon Valley better than any of us and he already has some potential investors lined up, and like I told you, this isn't about ads, Wardo—,"

"Because ads aren't cool," Eduardo finishes.

Mark clears his throat. "Yeah."

This goes against everything Eduardo has ever been taught—Mark and Sean and this insistence that _ads aren't cool_. It's ridiculous.

But Eduardo has never seen something like this. Mark – _Facebook_ is extraordinary. Shouldn't that mean that they would need to employ business techniques that aren't straight out of the textbook? And it's not like any of his efforts are paying off here, so maybe…

"Right," Eduardo replies, "I understand. I'll… work with Sean."

Eduardo had thought Mark would sound smug if he ever gave in. Instead, he finds that he sounds almost… relieved? "I'm glad you've come to you senses, Wardo," and even though it sounds barbed and offensive, the tone Mark says it in makes it anything but.

So Eduardo just smiles into the receiver. "I'm on my way," he says.

Another pause. "Wardo?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm – uh, well…" he coughs awkwardly, "I'm –,"

Eduardo decides to spare him the embarrassment. "I get it, Mark. I'll see you soon."

"Right."

Eduardo hangs up and rubs his eyes wearily.

He's really going to do this – live in that frat house with Sean Parker and those interns and _Mark._ The very thought of it is already giving him a headache.

— . . . —

Despite the fact that Eduardo genuinely believes that Christy is psychotic, he figures that she is still his girlfriend and he owes her an explanation as to why he's moving to the West Coast. Before he's even finished getting dressed to go pick her up and try to explain things over dinner, however, the locks on his door open so slowly he starts to fear it's an axe murderer, or something.

When the door swings open, it's just Christy.

Eduardo is conflicted as to whether or not he should actually sigh in relief.

"When did you get back?" she demands, framed in the doorway by the dingy light of the hallway.

"I – um. Earlier this afternoon."

Christy stalks into the apartment, the severe clack of her high heels against the cheap linoleum floor resounding in Eduardo's ears. "And when were you going to call me?"

Eduardo clears his throat, feeling cornered. "Just now, actually. I was just about to go pick you up so that we could go out to dinner."

She scoffs, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Which is why you didn't answer any of my 47 texts? Did you realize that I sent you 47 texts?"

He had. How could he not?

"Look, Chris… I, um…" he grabs for his suitcase (conveniently left unpacked, seeing as he's boarding the redeye back to Palo Alto in four hours), "I brought you a present."

She does not react like he hopes she will. When he pushes the bag at her, she drops it immediately, glaring. "Why does your relationship status say you're 'single' on your Facebook page?"

Things go downhill from there.

No matter how many times Eduardo tries to explain that he actually doesn't know _how_ to change his relationship status, Christy does not seem to be any closer to believing it. Even when she sees the scarf (that, admittedly, Eduardo had picked up from the gift shop at La Guardia when he got back), she only seems to get angrier.

"Go to hell," she snaps.

"Just take it easy," he says soothingly even though it feels like his nerves are shot to hell, "Why don't you let me finish getting ready so that we can go and have a nice dinner and I can tell you what I need to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" Christy growls, "Are you finally going to come clean about all the Silicon Valley sluts you've screwed?"

Eduardo's eyes nearly bug out of his sockets.

"The _what_?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

Eduardo sighs deeply, fingers kneading into his temples. "Christy. I'm just going to go into the bathroom and finish getting ready. Just – just wait here, okay?"

It turns out that it wasn't the best move on his part, because when he walks back out of the bathroom, he finds his trashcan on fire. After jumping around frantically for a few seconds and extinguishing it with his portable extinguisher, Eduardo resolves to just wait for his flight at the airport. By the time he's packed all his things into his luggage and heads out, however, he finds Christy waiting for him at the door, a pout on her face.

He nearly has a heart attack.

"You're going back there already?" she asks, an imploring look in her eyes.

Needless to say, Eduardo breaks up with her after that.

— . . . —

This time, Mark is actually at the airport to pick him up when he arrives.

It's almost dawn when he gets into the car, so by the time they make it to the house, the early morning light is shining unabashedly. Mark doesn't say anything, but he has a little victorious smirk on his face the whole drive there, occasionally shifting his eyes off the road to glance at Eduardo, almost as if he doesn't believe that this is actually happening. Eduardo just rests his head against the window, exhausted from all the drama with Christy and the flight over.

This thing between him and Mark has always felt more like a competition than a partnership. Eduardo does not like losing, but when Mark grabs his luggage from the trunk and carries it inside for him, he isn't sure what he feels, anymore.

— . . . —

If it's possible, the house looks even dirtier than when Eduardo had been there two days before. At the computer, one of the interns is wired in, his fingers clacking frantically against the keyboard as he codes. He doesn't see Dustin anywhere, and for that Eduardo is relieved. When he had left for New York that night, Dustin had _still_ been coding. Sighing, he follows Mark down the hall and into what he realizes is his room.

Eduardo blinks a few times as Mark sets his bags down by the closet.

"Isn't this your room?"

Mark rubs the back of his neck a little, expression unreadable. "Sean took the extra room when he moved in," he says by way of explanation, ignoring the way Eduardo's face tightens at the mention of Sean, "So you get this one."

"Where are you going to sleep, then?" Eduardo asks.

Mark shrugs. "I'll take the couch, or whatever. It's not like I sleep much in here, anyway."

_Or at all, _Eduardo adds silently.

Out loud, he says, "We can take turns."

The corner of Mark's mouth quirks slightly. "You've become so appeasing, Wardo."

Eduardo frowns. "If you'd rather sleep on the couch all the time –,"

"We can take turns," Mark interrupts hurriedly, "If it makes you feel any better."

Eduardo just flops down on the bed, too tired to argue. It smells faintly of Mark.

"It does."

Mark nods. "Okay then. Judging by your current position on the bed, I'd say that it's your turn. Which is good, because Sean has a meeting set up with Thiel about the possibility of the angel investment this afternoon, and I want you to go with him. You know, since it's your job and all."

Eduardo already has his eyes closed. "Okay."

"I'll have Dustin wake you up, or something."

He can feel Mark lingering in the room for a few moments. When he finally steps out and closes the door behind him, Eduardo rolls onto his stomach and buries his head into the pillow. He breathes in the familiar scent of his new life, and before he knows it, he is asleep.

— . . . —

True to his word, Mark sends Dustin to wake Eduardo up at noon.

"Wardo!" Dustin yells enthusiastically, jumping onto the bed and jostling Eduardo awake.

His jump of surprise and the jerk of the mattress under Dustin's weight conspire with each other to throw Eduardo off the bed and onto the floor with an embarrassingly unmanly yelp.

"_Jesus_!" Eduardo yells, voice rough and uneven from sleep. The sheets are tangled around his body and Dustin's laughter reverberates in his ears, aggravating the nascent headache that blooms right between his eyes.

Dustin is laughing so hard he nearly falls off the bed himself. "O-oh _God_," he wheezes, tears prickling at his eyes, "If only you could see _your face_ right now…"

Despite the fact that his ass is pretty sore from the fall, Eduardo grins. It feels like it's been forever since he's heard Dustin's laugh. Hell, all he's seen of Dustin lately is him coding with a single-minded focus second only to Mark's.

It's relieving to see this side of his friend again, the one that isn't one with his computer.

"Don't you think you could have settled for a slightly less violent method of waking me up?" Eduardo groans, only half serious since it's _Dustin _(he's lucky he didn't come in with a boom box).

Dustin just shrugs, occasionally snorting from the remnants of his mirth. "I couldn't help but show how happy I was that you finally decided to come out here," Dustin says cheerily, "When I saw Mark walking around with a smile on his face yesterday night, I just knew something was up."

The thought of Mark walking around with a smile on his usually expressionless face is unlikely enough, so Eduardo being the reason for the unusual behavior is understandably farfetched. Regardless, Eduardo can feel his lips twitch in a stupid grin at the thought.

When he sees the expression on Eduardo's face, Dustin cracks up again. He tends to do that a lot when Eduardo and Mark are in the same vicinity. When he sobers again, Dustin gives Eduardo a fond look.

"Seriously, dude. You have no idea how weird it is not to have you or Chris around. It's like being abandoned by your mom and dad."

Eduardo rubs the sleep out of his eyes before arching an eyebrow. "Am I the mother in this scenario?"

"Duh," Dustin replies, "Chris is the one that disciplines us whenever we do something stupid. You bring us snacks and make sure we get enough sleep – totally the mommy."

Eduardo lets out a laugh. The sad thing is that he doesn't remember the last time he did.

"How's your psycho girlfriend doing?" Dustin asks jokingly.

"We broke up," Dustin's face falls almost comically, "Uh, well. She tried to set my apartment on fire… while I was still in it."

Dustin looks horrified. "I was just kidding when I called her a psycho, but _damn._ Pyro, much?"

Eduardo shrugs, mouth twisted into a frown at the memory. "I guess I should have seen the signs…"

A few seconds of silence pass before Dustin snaps his fingers. "Oh, almost forgot. You and Sean have a meeting with that Peter Thiel guy in about an hour. That's why I interrupted your beauty sleep."

"An _hour_?"

There's no way he can be ready in an hour. He still has to shower, iron his suit, comb his hair into something vaguely resembling order…

"Yeah," Dustin says blithely, "I guess I'll leave you to it, mommy."

He should have remembered to bring his own alarm clock…

— . . . —

When Eduardo emerges from the bathroom looking presentable, he finds Sean waiting for him by the front door. His first instinct is to scowl, but Eduardo smothers it down and carefully keeps his expression blank.

Sean, of course, is smirking at him.

"Well I've gotta say, Eduardo," Sean begins, clapping him on the shoulder jovially, "I almost didn't believe Marky when he said you finally decided to get your ass over here."

Eduardo tenses at his touch. "Well, I figured that someone who's actually responsible was missing here."

Sean laughs, but his grip on Eduardo's shoulder tightens for a moment before he lets go. Turning towards the living room, where Mark and a few of the interns are wired in, Sean waves. "We're off to go put meat on the table, kiddies! Work hard until we get home!"

Predictably, he doesn't receive a response. Unbothered, Sean walks out the door. Eduardo follows.

— . . . —

Peter Thiel's offices look like the kind of place Eduardo's father always wanted him to end up working at. They've been waiting for about fifteen minutes, now, sitting side by side in the modern-looking waiting room. When a woman passes by and tells them that Mr. Thiel will be right with them, Sean turns to Eduardo and smiles.

"Ready to step up to the big leagues, Saverin? I'm sure that compared to Snookie's Cookies this must be pretty intimidating for you, huh?"

Eduardo bristles at the remark. "I'm a quick study, Sean."

"Then you're lucky you're here with me, kiddo," when the door to Thiel's office opens, Sean runs a hand down his Prada to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles, "Follow my lead."

Peter Thiel greets them warmly and invites them into his office, where Eduardo promptly takes a seat beside Sean, who is smiling confidently.

"How's life been treating you, Sean?" Thiel asks as he takes a seat across from them at the conference table, flanked by a grim-looking man.

Sean shrugs. "Can't complain. But I'm really excited about these kids, man. I'm telling you, it's groundbreaking shit."

Thiel falls silent. The man standing behind him finally pipes up. "We've looked over everything, and while it certainly appears to be an innovative venture, we're afraid that we have a few concerns."

Eduardo feels himself stiffen. Beside him, Sean's smile dims by a few watts. "Concerns?" he repeats.

"Yes," Thiel replies, "You know I like you, Sean, but after our last few ventures together I have a few concerns about the long-term health of the investment."

"You're saying that you think Facebook won't be a steady source of revenue?" Eduardo asks when Sean doesn't.

Thiel nods, trying to look a bit repentant. "Exactly. I'm not afraid of taking risks," Thiel reasons, looking at both Eduardo and Sean, who have paled considerably, "You can't be a good businessman and be afraid of taking risks. But after the investments I've made in the companies you led me to in the past didn't yield quite what you promised upfront, Sean, I do have to say that I've learned to be a little more wary of where I put my eggs. While Facebook certainly seems to have the _potential _to go far, I think we'll have to see continued signs of vitality over the next few months before we decide to make such a sizable investment."

Sean has gone pasty-faced, confidence gone. "Peter, c'mon –,"

"I'm not saying no, Sean," Thiel interrupts smoothly, "I'm just saying not now."

Silence reigns for a few moments. Sean, Eduardo realizes, seems to have given up. He bites his lower lip. Facebook needs the money _now_. Thiel may want to wait until Facebook matures into more of a sure thing, but if they wait much longer, there won't _be_ a Facebook.

Clearing his throat before Thiel can dismiss them, Eduardo speaks up. "Mr. Thiel, I understand your concerns, but I have to reassure you that, in this case, they're unfounded, sir."

For the first time during the meeting, Thiel makes eye contact with Eduardo and holds it. He frowns. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe I got your name."

"It's Eduardo Saverin, sir."

Thiel's eyes narrow just the slightest bit, almost as if he wasn't expecting to hear from him. Seeing as how he's Sean's contact, Eduardo really shouldn't be that surprised. "Ah, Mr. Saverin. You're the CFO, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Eduardo responds with a nod.

"What are you doing?" Sean hisses.

Eduardo ignores him. "You're right. Facebook is a relatively young company. On top of that, it's being run by a bunch of college kids, so I'm sure that those two facts alone don't inspire the confidence needed to make a substantial investment and sleep well at night."

The man smiles thinly. "So you see my point."

But Eduardo shakes his head. "Not if you look at the numbers. Facebook may be a young company run by a bunch of college kids, but its – _our_ growth is extraordinary. Right now we're in 169 colleges, five of which are in Europe, and have 300,000 members, and all this in a few months' time."

Thiel nods. "I'm well aware of the numbers, Mr. Saverin. They're the reason we even put this much consideration into the matter."

"Then you're also aware," Eduardo continues, sounding much more confident than he actually feels, "that Facebook is 'cool," at that, Thiel tips his head back and laughs, but nods in assent. Eduardo is grasping at straws, and is beginning to say things that Mark would say, sounding less and less than the econ major he really is by the second, "And really, sir, the reason we're so 'cool' is that the people who run it _are_ its target demographic. But I truly believe that Facebook's true potential hasn't even begun to be explored."

This earns him an arched eyebrow. "Enlighten me, Mr. Saverin."

"It's true that Facebook's marketability seems limited to college students, but it can expand beyond that. Take, for instance, the parents of those college kids that you mentioned earlier. Their kids are on the site because their friends are, and the same can be said about these parents. They would look to reconnect with their old friends"

"You just finished explaining how Facebook's main strength is that it's 'cool,'" Thiel says, making air quotes, "Do you figure that Facebook will still be 'cool' when these kids' _parents_ start joining? Because if I understand you correctly, this is what you're implying."

Eduardo nods. "The thing is, sir…" he begins, then stops.

He closes his eyes for a moment and thinks of Mark.

Mark, who goes on and on about Facebook being cool, but has too much fire in his eyes when he talks about it for that to be the true extent of his vision for his creation. This isn't FaceMash or Winklevosses' idea for a stupid dating site. Yeah, that day at Kirkland, Mark had told him that Facebook was really just about getting laid, but, really, it's _more_ than that.

Thiel clears his throat, startling Eduardo from his thoughts. "Still with us, Mr. Saverin?"

So maybe the idea behind Facebook started with Mark being vindictive against Erica Albright and the final clubs and maybe even Eduardo himself for getting punched by the Phoenix, but it clearly evolved far beyond that. Mark, who finds it hard to relate to anyone, was always looking for an easier way, a way that people could –

Shit.

Eduardo understands.

He opens his eyes, smiles.

"Our vision for Facebook isn't just for it to be 'cool.' Our vision for Facebook is for it to fundamentally change the way that people communicate – to make it easier to stay in contact with your friends, even if they live on the other side of the world. Facebook is about _connection_, sir, about making it so much easier to initiate and maintain and understand. I know that right now you're looking at us and thinking that we could just be a passing trend like some of the other social networking sites, but I believe – no, I can _guarantee_, that Facebook is worth your investment."

Thiel's face betrays nothing. "That was quite the impassioned speech, Mr. Saverin. But you're talking more like a visionary than a businessman."

"Yes, well… Facebook is more than just a business, sir. And that's exactly what makes it successful."

He seems to consider this for a moment. "Tell me, Mr. Saverin, since you mentioned the word _guarantee_. As the company's CFO, what can you _guarantee_ will happen by the end of this year?"

Eduardo swallows hard. "I believe that Facebook's membership will double – no, triple."

"Ballsy," Thiel comments.

Eduardo grins, heart beating against his chest like a jackhammer. "Mr. Thiel, during the summer of my freshman year at Harvard, I made $300,000 by betting on oil futures. So, yeah, I guess you can say I'm pretty ballsy. So as a fellow businessman, I can say that the worst thing about the job isn't making the wrong investment and losing your money; it's letting the right opportunity pass you by and watching it become a goldmine without you."

The room is silent.

Then, Thiel smirks. "And you're saying that Facebook is that kind of opportunity?"

Eduardo nods resolutely. "I can _guarantee_ it."

Thiel looks at the man behind him, and they make eye contact, a wordless exchange taking place between the two of them. Beside Eduardo, Sean fidgets uncomfortably. Then, Thiel turns back and smiles.

"Let me say, Eduardo – can I call you Eduardo?" Eduardo nods choppily, and Thiel continues, "Some of the things you've said cannot, in fact, be guaranteed. But when I imagine how we'd feel if we missed out on what Facebook can become…" he frowns, "Well, it's a rather disconcerting thought."

"I bet," Sean finally pipes up, his high voltage smile back in place.

"Going into business with you has always carried an element of risk, Sean," Thiel says seriously, "But you do have a track record for leading us to potential goldmines. And now that I've heard from Eduardo here about the vision and prospects of the company, well, I can say that I'm quite confident in my decision to make this investment."

Eduardo feels like everything has dropped away. Has he… has he done it?

"We'll be starting you off with a $500,000 investment and get you set up in your own office. We'll have to discuss some corporate restructuring that would allow for new investors, but congratulations," he looks directly at Eduardo, a smile on his face, "You've convinced me."

Eduardo feels like passing out. Shakily, he gets to his feet and shakes Thiel's hand. "T-thank you so much, sir," he says dumbly.

Thiel smiles. "Please, Eduardo. We're business partners, now. Call me Peter."

— . . . —

On the way back to the house, Sean speaks up.

"I've gotta hand it to you, Saverin. You really saved our asses back there."

Eduardo is not quite sure how to react. "Uh, well –,"

"I'm serious," Sean insists, taking his eyes off the road to look at Eduardo, "I have to admit, I had my doubts about you, but after that… Good shit, bro. Marky really knows how to pick his partners."

"T-thank you," Eduardo stutters out, "But could you possibly keep your eyes on the road before you get us killed?"

Sean laughs all the way home, which does nothing to soothe Eduardo's nerves.

— . . . —

They celebrate that night. Sean brings in bottles of champagne and toasts Eduardo repeatedly, embellishing the details of how he 'made Peter Thiel jizz his pants,' complete with dramatic reenactments of his speech.

"And then," Sean shouts over the laughter of Dustin and the interns, "Then he goes, 'buddy, if you don't invest in Facebook, then you're a dumbass!'"

Eduardo is gloriously buzzed and thus finds everything Sean (or anybody) says to be hilarious. He is in the middle of sloppily pouring himself another flute of champagne in the kitchen when a hand grabs at his arm. It is Mark, face flushed and blue eyes darker than usual. Eduardo beams at him, stumbling a little as he turns to grab onto his shoulders.

"Mark," Eduardo slurs happily.

"Wardo," Mark returns, grinning, "So I heard that you made Peter Thiel bend over for you."

Eduardo laughs, leaning against Mark and swaying a bit. "Nah, I just told him how cool you and Facebook are."

Mark's flush darkens, spreads down to his shoulders. "You really said that?" There is a note of disbelief in his voice.

Eduardo nods vigorously. "Yeah, Mark, yeah I totally did. And it _worked_."

The room is spinning just a little bit and Eduardo's entire body is tingling pleasantly. Almost all his weight is resting against Mark, who is barely able to keep them both upright. He raises a hand and tangles it in Mark's curls.

"Jesus, Wardo," Mark murmurs into his ear a little breathlessly, "You're so drunk right now."

"I'm so glad I came, Mark," he confesses, "So glad."

Mark's breath hitches, body tense in Eduardo's arms. "Wardo…"

"Yeah?"

Mark's breath is hot against his skin, but he stays silent.

Eduardo doesn't really mind.

— . . . —

Eduardo wakes up the next morning with a killer hangover and a warm body pressed up against his. When his eyes focus enough through the throbbing ache in his head, he realizes that it is only Mark and that the two of them are still fully clothed, limbs tangled in each other and the sheets, Mark's head resting against Eduardo's chest.

He considers getting up and taking a long shower, but the light filtering through the blinds makes Mark's hair look almost blonde. When he shifts, Mark makes a small protesting sound, and Eduardo finds that he does not want to move just yet.

So he shifts closer so that his chin rests atop Mark's head, distantly registering his small sigh of contentment when he does.

Within minutes, Eduardo is asleep again.

— . . . —

When he wakes up the next morning, Mark is gone.

Eduardo is not sure how to feel about this, but there is an inexplicable dull pang in his chest.

Upon stumbling into the kitchen, however, still wearing last night's clothes and blinking blearily, he finds Mark leaning against the counter, which has empty champagne bottles and red cups littering its surface.

"Morning," Eduardo says with a hesitant smile.

Mark nods at him in acknowledgment, but says nothing. As he goes about preparing coffee, he notices the skittishness in Mark's movements, the flush that spreads along his nose and cheeks whenever Eduardo accidentally brushes against him in his movements around the kitchen. Mark will not meet his eyes, but he doesn't seem to want to get out of his way, either.

Eduardo is not sure what this means (or perhaps he is not yet ready to accept it).

He and Mark stay there for a long stretch of time, the silence taut between them. He thinks that he should say something, but does not think that he knows the words. Eventually, Dustin crawls out from his spot from the couch and whines at Eduardo to make him breakfast. Mark leaves, and the coffee tastes bitter and scalding against his tongue. Eduardo swallows it down and goes about scrambling eggs and frying bacon.

— . . . —

Mark immerses himself in coding and Eduardo busies himself with accompanying Sean to other meetings with other potential investors.

While Eduardo is still wary of Sean, he finds that he is not as bad as he originally thought. Ever since their meeting with Thiel, Sean has come to respect him, and Eduardo finds himself returning that respect. Surprisingly, they make a good team – Sean is effortlessly charming and casual and Eduardo is more formal and courteous. Their strengths balance out each other's weaknesses, and after a few days spent going from meeting to meeting, they learn how to develop an effective dynamic.

After another successful meeting with an investor, Eduardo and Sean drive to the building Thiel is giving them as their new headquarters. It's modern in a way that makes Sean chatter excitedly about synergy and Eduardo think about a lack of privacy, eying the glass walls of the offices suspiciously.

Sean notices and smirks. "Guess that means no kinky office sex, eh Saverin? Unless you're into voyeurism, that is."

Eduardo splutters, and Sean's smirk only grows more lascivious.

The worst thing about working this closely with Sean, Eduardo decides, is that when the guy genuinely starts to like you, he tends to express his affection by trying to get you laid. After trying (and failing) to hook Eduardo up with some of the girls that hang around the house, Sean had taken a step back and started observing Eduardo's behavior and interactions with others. It is a bit unnerving for him, to have Sean watching him so closely, even if there is nothing to see.

It is too soon after Christy to start dating someone again. At least that's what Eduardo tells himself.

Sean, however, is relentless.

"Don't get mad at me or anything," Sean says quietly, sitting down beside him on the couch one evening while Eduardo reads the Wall Street Journal, "But I'm definitely picking up on some unresolved sexual tension between you and Marky-boy over there."

Eduardo's reaction is to have a coughing fit so violent that Dustin lunges from out of nowhere to slap his back repeatedly and ask if he needs the Heimlich maneuver performed on him. Mark doesn't even look up from coding.

When the commotion dies down and Dustin retreated to the kitchen to get a Red Bull, Eduardo turns to Sean, red-faced. "What the hell gave you that idea?"

"How about how touchy-feely you two were the night we were celebrating the Thiel investment?" Eduardo pales, and Sean continues, "Or when I tried setting you up with Lucy the other night and he threw a little bitch fit?"

"He did not throw a 'little bitch fit,'" Eduardo says weakly.

"Yeah, he just sulked for the rest of the night over in his little bitch corner and glared at her like he wanted to strangle her," Sean quips, "Face it, Saverin. Marky totally wants to bone you. And if I'm right, you want to bone him too."

Eduardo flushes. "We're just friends and business partners, Sean. Get your head out of the gutter."

Sean sighs theatrically before traipsing away to bother someone else, but Eduardo's face remains heated for the rest of the night.

— . . . —

Eduardo makes it a point to avoid doing anything that may make Sean think that there is any 'unresolved sexual tension' between him and Mark. This is hard to do, however, when Mark is on his third day of a coding bender without sleep or any food and drink besides copious amounts of Red Vines and Red Bull.

Just like it had been during their days at Harvard, it falls to Eduardo to wrestle Mark away from the computer and into bed.

"Stop treating me like a child, Wardo," Mark grouses as Eduardo corrals him into their room.

"I will when you stop acting like one, Mark," Eduardo retorts, putting a hand on his shoulder and steering him toward the bed. Mark stiffens at his touch, and Eduardo studiously avoids thinking about this. After all, Eduardo has always been a touchy person and Mark has always valued his personal space.

When Mark is finally lying in bed, glaring at the ceiling with his arms crossed over his chest like a sulky brat, Eduardo goes about pulling off his flip-flops, eyes drawn to the pale strip of skin where his t-shirt has ridden up.

Clearing his throat, Eduardo steps back towards the door. "I'll take the couch tonight. You just get some rest."

But Mark's voice, carefully monotone, stops him. "You can sleep here. I don't mind."

Eduardo bites into his lower lip. "Mark…"

"Seriously, Wardo. It's not a big deal."

He hesitates for a few more seconds before giving in, crawling onto the bed and settling in beside Mark, who scoots over a bit to make room for him. It is cramped and much too warm, but the sound of Mark's breathing, deep and regular, eventually lulls him to sleep.

And so it is that the 'taking turns' system Eduardo had developed to divide the use of the bed between Mark and himself equally falls apart into outright sharing.

— . . . —

By the time August is starting, they start moving into the new offices. Eduardo gets his own space, glass-enclosed and a few feet away from Mark's. Sometimes Eduardo will peer out and look at the offices as they steadily become more and more filled with people and hardware, as the site they'd launched from their dorm room grows to encompass dozens of workers and hundreds of thousands of members.

Sean starts talking about reaching a million members by December, and Mark finally puts the finishing touches on the Wall. Eduardo thinks about Harvard, the new semester just a few weeks away. He toys with the idea of staying, imagining how livid his father would be if he did. For some reason, the thought is accompanied with a lot less anxiety than he thinks it should be.

A week before the semester starts, he gets a call from Chris.

"So you're staying there?" Chris asks him.

"They need me here," Eduardo replies, gazing at Mark through the glass walls of his office, "I'll just take a semester off."

Chris simply makes a small humming noise in response, almost as if he already expected that answer from him. The strange thing is that, in a way, Eduardo did too.

— . . . —

Things develop naturally from them on out.

Eduardo likes California. The sun is always out and it rains instead of snows the weather reminds him of Miami and São Paulo , except without the humidity. He does not miss the cold of Cambridge, and he laughs whenever Mark insists on wearing his hoodies and ends up sweating profusely because of it.

Eduardo likes his job, too. He likes to think that he is doing a good job as CFO, and even though Mark doesn't outright tell him that he is, the fact that he isn't scathingly criticizing him for what he is doing wrong is evidence enough. While he used to think that it was too large a responsibility to handle, he finds that it is a challenge he grows into when there isn't thousands of miles separating him from his responsibilities.

Their shares are diluted to make room for new investors, and Eduardo takes it upon himself to protect Mark's interests (seeing as how he's too preoccupied with coding to look after his financial well-being). At the end of the day, Eduardo doesn't own 30% anymore (he now owns approximately 24%), but he finds himself taking a page from Mark and caring less about money and more about the work he's doing.

And when Mark gets those ridiculous business cards that declare 'I'm CEO, bitch,' he gets Eduardo a matching set that proclaim 'I'm CFO, bitch.' Eduardo laughs at the joke but takes care to order a more appropriate set for actual use. Nevertheless, he takes one of his and one of Mark's and keeps them in his wallet behind his driver's license, if only because it was thoughtful of Mark to get him a set too.

— . . . —

When the screens Sean set up light up with fireworks in honor of reaching a million members, Peter throws them a party to celebrate, making it a point to congratulate Eduardo personally for making good on his guarantees.

At the club, Sean begins flirting with every girl in sight and Dustin dances like a maniac. Eduardo simply coasts, walking around and enjoying the moment. When he catches sight of Mark standing awkwardly off to the side, he makes his way over to him, dancing a little as he does.

Mark arches an eyebrow. "Still dancing like you did during Caribbean Night at A-E-Pi, I see."

Eduardo rolls his eyes and slaps Mark lightly on the back. "And you're not moving at all."

"Some things never change," Mark agrees, lips quirked upwards slightly.

Some things, Eduardo thinks as he gazes at Mark through the hazy light of the club, actually do, though.

When a server keeps coming their way and delivering drinks to them, Eduardo becomes mildly suspicious. Sure enough, Sean gives him a wink when he passes by on his way out with a few of the interns.

Eventually, Mark gets drunk enough to start swaying to the music that pulses through the speakers, even letting Dustin drag him out to the dance floor for a few minutes before he stumbles his way back to Eduardo.

"I'm not gonna lie," Mark says, "I'm pretty intoxicated right now."

Eduardo gives him an alcohol-loosened smile. "The dancing sort of clued me in, Mark."

Mark snorts before actually smiling back, and something inside Eduardo's stomach squirms.

"What is it that girls like about you?" Mark asks when a few girls giggle coquettishly at Eduardo as they pass by. Mark looks genuinely curious and just the slightest bit jealous, and Eduardo thinks it's sort of adorable.

"I've been told it's the hair," Eduardo replies, running a hand over his head proudly.

Mark squints. "Yeah, I can see that. Probably the combination between that and the Bambi eyes."

"_Bambi eyes_?"

"Yes," Mark affirms with a nod, "Bambi eyes."

"I never knew you liked Disney movies," Eduardo teases.

Mark rolls his eyes. "I grew up with three sisters, Wardo. Plus Dustin liked watching them as much as he did the original trilogy, so Chris and I often had to sit through them."

Eduardo takes another sip of his drink. "Well, your hair's pretty nice, too."

Mark frowns. "Is that a compliment?"

"Yes, Mark," Eduardo says, reaching up to brush a stray curl behind his ear, "It was a compliment."

Mark is blushing now, pink under the strobe lights that shine down from overhead. "Then thank you," he bites his lip, then, "I like your hair, too."

They make eye contact and hold it. It's not often that Mark is drunk enough to be forthcoming with things like this, so Eduardo figures he should take the opportunity to find out.

"What else do you like about me?" Eduardo asks, voice dropping a few octaves.

"You're highly efficient," Mark says breathlessly, "I know I can depend on you to get things done, even if I don't think they're necessary."

Eduardo swallows, leans in a little. "Do you remember what you said to get me over here?"

Mark nods choppily, pupils dilated.

"Does that still apply?"

"No," Mark answers softly, "You're not gonna be left behind."

"I actually meant the other thing. Do you still need me here, Mark? Do you still want me?"

Mark shudders. "God, yes."

And Eduardo smiles, because maybe this is all he ever has wanted to hear. "Good," he murmurs, and then he leans in and presses their lips together.

When Eduardo swipes his tongue along Mark's bottom lip, he finds that he tastes of both new beginnings and the culmination of months of friendship and arguments and lying together in bed. Eduardo wraps his arms around Mark's waist, lets his hands run up and down his back. Mark's arms remain loosely at his sides for a few seconds before he hesitantly cards his fingers through Eduardo's hair.

Mark groans a little when Eduardo catches his bottom lip between his own and sucks on it lightly. They pull apart after a couple of minutes, their pupils blown and eyes dark.

"Wardo," Mark mutters, voice hoarse.

"Do you want to go home?" Eduardo whispers into his ear.

Mark nods vigorously. "Yes."

So Eduardo nods back and grabs his clammy hand in his own, leading him out of the club and into the night.

— . . . —

For the first time since he moved in, the house is empty save for the two of them.

They shed clothes as they make their way to their room, kissing almost frantically all the while, bodies pressed flush against each other. Mark is greedy and possessive like he always has been, and Eduardo fights him tooth and nail, claiming him by biting and sucking and making him groan _shit shit shit _and _fuck _and _Wardo_.

And when they're lying on the bed, Mark straddles him and taunts with, _Am I better than Christy? _So Eduardo replies, _Fuck yes _and growls _I'm better than Erica ever was to you_, and it's a statement, not a question, so Mark just hisses and lets Eduardo flip them over and press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, his chest, his stomach, and then pin his arms over his head and kiss his lips until they're swollen and red.

Eduardo fucks Mark like it's all he's ever been meant to do, slowly and sensually, to make him cry out and beg _harder, faster, deeper, Wardo please_, so Eduardo does and demands, _you're mine, Mark _ and Mark says _yes yes yes _and_ you're mine, Wardo_, and that is all he's ever needed to hear.

And then there is a golden sensation spreading throughout his chest, bursting through his ribcage, and Eduardo's thrusts grow more erratic and Mark's cries more desperate. Their frenzied movements reach a crescendo, a statement that says _no more idols but me_, and then the feelings burst throughout their bodies, rendering them blind and breathless and exhausted.

And when it is finally over and Eduardo eases himself out of Mark and presses a tender kiss to his lips, Mark sighs and says, "I'm so glad you came, Wardo.".

So Eduardo smiles tiredly and holds Mark close, unable to imagine an alternative to this culmination. "Me too."

— . . . —

When Dustin finds them the next morning, he screams and passes out.

Mark simply rolls his eyes and steps over his body to get to the bathroom.

— . . . —

Sean smirks that _I told you so_ smirk of his that sets Eduardo on edge when Mark kisses him in plain sight of everyone else to make a statement without actually having to say anything at all – typical Mark.

For someone who's usually expressionless and apathetic about social conventions, Mark tends to be overtly territorial when it comes to Eduardo, especially when Sean brings girls over. Eduardo lets him, if only because it's kind of adorable in its own Mark-ish way (and Mark tends to learn his place when they're alone together).

— . . . —

Eduardo doesn't end up going back to Harvard.

He's Facebook's CFO, after all, and he's pretty damn good at his job.

Besides, Mark _wants – wants – needs him_, and really, how could he say no to that?

* * *

><p><em>AN: I hope you enjoyed reading this!_


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